


Father of Mine

by Leftleg



Series: Goro has a bad time (and like one good time.) [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beating, Blood and Violence, Child Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Abortion, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Murder, Oh! Forgot to mention, Parent/Child Incest, Patricide, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Horror, Sexual Abuse, Strangulation, Trans Goro, bad stuff be careful reading this, bc im projecting onto him, bruh bad times, but kinda, deadass when i started this i was doing okay then i had a #breakdown and then it got bad, dont worry its not good, horror is being used very lightly here its more like you are scared and disgusted, i edited this to make people feel slimey, i want you to feel gross reading this. thats the point, it's implied shido has been taking care of goro, its pretty obvious actually ajksfhsk, light discussion of suicide, like feeling nasty? read this, listen..., not foster parents, slitting wrists, so ig non deadbeat dad shido, the only good thing is the ending tbh, this is to gross you out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 20:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leftleg/pseuds/Leftleg
Summary: Shido is Goro's father.Goro is Shido's son.They don't like each other very much...





	Father of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I call goro a teen a lot in this but its not marked underage because he isnt. he's 18/19 in this which is still a teenager but a legal one.
> 
> 5-5-2020: Okay no offense, I know lots of people are reading the smut I wrote but literally if you want to know my position on shido/goro, this right here is it lol.

Goro Akechi was a depressed shell of a man with his nose so deep in lies and being a two-faced evil fuck, that he really did flirt with the idea of kissing concrete from a few stories up or eating one of his personalized bullets for dinner. His existence was not his own. His decisions were not his own. Every move he made was calculated and planned and no matter how much he wanted to shake it from his head and cry it out, he knew and accepted the harsh reality that life would never bend to his way like that. That he would never have friends that actually cared for him, or a partner, or a father that loved him and a mother that was alive and smothering him in kisses and love like a baby. He could never have that, and the very thought of it was a punch to the face.

Day in and out, he woke up, got dressed, ate his breakfast, brushed his teeth, faked being a good boy long enough to get people to love him for another day, slunk back to his lonely apartment, blacked out for about three hours and then came to. His phone would be ringing off the hook with a call from Shido telling him what he should do the next day or week to ham up some press or some shit, then he’d roll to his stomach and bury his face in a pillow and see how long he could last until the sting in his chest forced his head to jerk up and breathe in some fresh air. 

There were times though when he was too tired to force his body to do anything but roll left and right on the centre of his bed, his subconscious wandering to things that made him slightly happier. Things like whether or not his mother would smile the same if she were still around, or if she and Shido had gotten married, would his life have been any different? What it would be like to have a unit of a family, one where he wouldn't have to lie so much. Etcetera, etcetera.

He enjoyed these thoughts and used them not only to momentarily forget about the fact that he was a nasty little liar boy, but also because they gave him a little hope. They were nothing more than wishful thinking, but sometimes even a second long daydream of rainbows and unicorn spit could revitalize a person, and for someone so young, Goro needed a lot of revitalizing.

See, Goro's mental battery was drained faster than an ink cartridge in an office building solely due to the fact that Shido Masayoshi was alive and breathing and ruining the world and forcing Goro to do it for him. Sadly, he couldn't do much about that, he had small(ish) plans to kill the man, but things just got in the way (*cough* it's the manipulation*cough*).

He tried to stay out as much as he could to avoid Shido, even though they didn’t live together, which was strange to his neighbors who wondered why the hell this young man was always away when Shido would come over and try to bother him. He'd slip out the apartment doors and blend in with the common crowd until he was more than far enough to take a breath without having Pitbull breathing down his neck. 

Sometimes (most of the time), Shido'd catch him when he _was_ home, and wouldn’t knock, (of course not, the man had as much respect in his whole body as a spec of dirt had emotion), unlock the door and push his way in, angry as all hell with that damn scowl on his face, and sit right on Goro’s couch. He’d recline, look around boredly, and if Goro was at work, he’d wander around and touch his things, then text him something that never failed to make him take a break and heave into a toilet. 

If he was home, he’d wager on Goro hearing the door open and shut and come out to “greet" him. What would happen next...well, Goro never wanted to talk about it. It was embarrassing and sickening. He shuddered in disgust at the thought of Shido's hands on his skin, the jeers and fake compliments on his body, his muscles, his flexibility. The way he...sounded…He had spent many a night throwing up at the very prospect that it could happen at any time, any place. Sometimes it wasn't as bad as it could be- Shido'd compliment him and it'd sound genuine, then grab his head in his hands, smooth out his fringe while looking at him with eyes that said _'I love you. I'm proud of you.', _and kiss him on the temple or the cheek.

Those moments left Goro conflicted, because no one would be so gentle if they really hated you--and he'd wallow more wondering if he was being punished and praised on an 80/20 split because he really was a disappointment or if he was being [played like a goddamn fiddle.](https://youtu.be/INhp79_9nwI) When Shido paraded him, was he being truthful? When he hurt him, was it discipline? When Shido kissed him with the fervor of a lover, was Goro right to want to vomit? To bite? Was he being loved or manipulated? How much of each defined their link? It left him so confused so often that he become vacant and watching. He wouldn't respond because he wasn't sure how. Shido would have him droop over his lap and pet him like a dog, and Goro would think it was love and cling to it, give his father what he wanted even if it meant losing dignity.

When Shido hurt him, which was more often than not, Goro would regress and panic, wonder why and what had he done. Why he was not being loved again. If he had done something wrong again to warrant the pain and the rage, the similar two-facedness that he often used- the quick snap of emotion. When Shido hit him, he hit him hard and kept hitting him harder and harder, berating him until he felt as worthless as his father had always hinted at him being. He was reminded that he was not loved, then concluded that he was never loved, and he curled into a ball of tears and rage- how dare he be played? How dare he be pushed and pulled and rejected and destroyed? How dare he exist and live like this?

How dare Shido?

How dare _Goro_?

Shido, had, in a more a quick summation, ruined his life. Ruined his brain. Ruined any sliver of a chance to change for the better. He pushed and pulled him to his beck and call, and then took from him whatever he wanted. Shido _was_ playing him for a fool, but Shido also raised him. Shido was making Goro a fool but also a prince.

A lot of the time, Goro was to blame for his misdeeds. He had to carry the weight of it all, every mistake and failure--it was _his_ fault and Shido would make sure he knew it. Shido never took responsibility, not when Goro's mother died, not when Goro's arm broke from being gripped too hard, not when Goro had a smarting black eye in middle school, or when he had driven the poor boy to a panicked fit of tears and screaming and twitching when he barely broke fourteen. Even though it was all Shido, all that man's doing, it was always Goro's fault.

There was a time, Goro remembered, when he spent weeks in agonizing pain. His stomach had cramped so severely at times that he would vomit, and blood slipped out of him like a heavy slow drip. He was afraid, he was unsure of what was wrong, so he went to the doctor on his own, and was quickly whisked to a private room with his family approved doctor. He sat there under the light, head on the pillows, twiddling his thumbs. The world felt very heavy on him, and he was scared, but he was calm. He was silent and calm, his eyes staring. He just...existed in the moment, and when the doctor came back in-- well, he tries to forget what it was that was wrong with him. He remembers though, and he remembers shakily getting to his feet, a body once hollow now was a cold bottle filled with sloshing and freezing water. His bare legs shook, his skin was clammy and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. He could not focus, he could not breathe, the room felt like a coffin and he could've sworn he was going to drop dead right there. He fell to his knees before the doctor, and begged for mercy. He begged and begged for her to not say a word, to help him, to be discreet, but the doctor refused him. She looked away from the teen shamefully, and then, in an ironic twist of a knife, shamed him. Told him that it was his fault and that he should take responsibility. That he should be ashamed to ask such a thing, that he should've been more careful.

Always, always it was his fault. 

He choked up, thinking about the blame. It wasn't his fault that time. How could he have been more careful? What could he have done to protect himself? Did the doctor not see his bruises? Did she ignore the hints, the subtle nuances when he spoke about his father? How was this his fault again? She was a woman herself! Had _she _no shame in telling him these things? Had that _bitch_ no sense of dignity in her?

A tear fell down his cheek, hit the tile floor with a silent drop, his nails dug into his skin so hard he could feel it give way. He grit his molars, and tried to hide it, tried to keep from screaming it out that he was tired, that he wanted to claw at his face and scalp until there was nothing left but blood and bone, that he wanted to slam his fists on the linoleum until it cracked or his bones shattered. It was all his fault again and again, over and over. His mind was bursting at the seams, he was becoming unhinged--he _is_ unhinged, but then it was clear and he was so close to risking it all, yet, he didn't. He pushed himself from the floor, knees rattling and fists unballed.

He huffed a sigh, pretended he hadn't cried and begged to be saved, flicked his head up, and sniffled. He smiled and said, _'Thank you for seeing me. I'm sorry for asking such a request. Please do what you must.'. _The doctor did not look at him again. 

The hospital called Shido as soon as he was finished, and Goro had to shamefully walk beside him to the car. The doctor had told Shido the diagnosis, so Goro didn’t say anything about it, and quietly accepted what the punishment for his actions, and what they needed to do about it. There was the silent agreement that something had to happen, and that something might kill him. Shido and he walked to the apartment stairs, bearing the strange looks from the other tenants who had known Goro to use the elevator, and once they reached an appropriate floor, Shido put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face the decline. He didn't say anything, not even a laugh or a sneer, just let Goro soak up the painted ledges, and then pushed him down those concrete steps. 

He hit each step hard as all hell, and him falling echoed loudly in the narrow hall, his blood was splattered on some of the steps he had hit, and he managed to smack the wall at the bottom of the stairs face first where he broke his nose on impact. He remembered blood pouring out of him and writhing in pain on the bottom floor. Blood dripped in from his panting split lips, and he felt lightheaded. His vision was blurry, he was lethargic, and he managed to twist his head to see Shido walking down the flight, and when he blinked, he saw him standing above him and looking at him with a blurred face of disdain, and Goro had some inkling of hope that he would be concerned for him after seeing him cough blood that he refused to swallow.

"F-Father...", it was hoarse and hopeful. Perhaps what was done was enough. He needed help. He whispered to Shido, like a toddler to a mother to pick it up, and hoped that he would bend over and lift him, say sorry, that it was too much--but instead, Shido rolled him over to his side, and kicked him hard in the stomach. It connected like a plug, and felt like lightening, he dry-heaved and the verge of unconsciousness was speeding closer. Once more, Shido kicked him again, this time a little farther down beneath his bellybutton, kicking upwards.

If he had done any more, Goro was unsure, as he had passed out after the second kick. He awoke in the backseat of a car, head resting on Shido's shoulder, some momentary amnesia made him forget that he shouldn't reach a shaking hand to the crook of the man's arm and let it linger. That he shouldn't be comfortable passing out in that cold spot. They went back to the hospital with a bloody and bruised Goro, his face swollen and nose busted, his legs and arms spotty with big purple and green bruises and small cuts that had stopped bleeding on the way there, his vision was unfocused and he hung onto Shido's arm like a dying soldier. Shido spoke to the dumbfounded doctor and said:_ “How about now?”_

After that, Shido signed him for a hysterectomy. 

To this day, he still weighed on him. The trauma is there still and would never go away. Even though Shido was gone, Goro was still living under him and the dark cloud he had formed over him. 

He tried not to think about it too much.

* * *

Shido dying happened one night, a night where Goro was picking with the idea of taking his gun to bed with him. Shido had come. Goro heard the tumble of his shoes when he removed them and hid the weapon under his blanket. When he heard clicking in the kitchen, alcohol bottles and glass tumblers connecting, he mustered up some spirit and tentatively walked out of the bedroom and into the living space, looking around cautiously. Shido saw him, sipped his drink and sat down on the couch like he always did. 

“Come here, sit with Shido-San.”

Silently, Goro sat between the space between his open legs, facing away from him. He felt shame in him, and Shido began to pet his hair, let his hand rest on his cranium and slip back down his locks. He'd said something about how ratty it was, that it felt like he was touching dry grass, and kept touching it. Petting him, up and down the back of his head, ruffling, tangling his fingers in it, and dully yanking at his roots. Goro sat there in silence, head bowed down to let this cur of a man scratch and pet him like a lapdog.

Goro’s eyes, dark and sharp, idly stared at the floor, at his feet, and resisted the urge to cry, to turn around and lunge at the man who seemed so unaware of how rigid the teen was, how his back arched forward seemingly painfully and his mouth in a taut line yet trembling at the corners. Disgust filled every inch of Goro’s body, and with every second, he felt himself grow more and more sick and enraged and disgusted with himself, and he argued with it within him to cry, to scream, to rage. But he knew of the uselessness. The futility of it. So he slapped a hand over his mouth when he felt Shido’s dull nails at the nape of his neck and he pressed his own fingers into his cheeks when the hand at his neck went flat on his spine, and gripped. His fingers dug in, and Goro had to muffle his pained yelp at the sudden sharpness. He let go.

He grumbled and smacked him hard on the back of the head. He was upset that Goro wasn't being responsive, and was irritated already to the point of mercy: he didn't feel like_ making _ him responsive, and Goro took the few seconds he had between the slap to his skull and Shido's annoyed _ "Get up." _ to thank... _ someone _for that momentary respite. Of course, as soon as Goro had stood from between his legs, his own felt like long towers of pudding, and he nearly crumbled as soon as he had erected. 

"Hurry it up. Get your pants off."

Goro fumbled with his belt, normally agile fingers were now silly string, and the simple buckle was a chastity belt lock without a key. Shido watched him impatiently, and kicked at the teen's ankle, not enough to make him fall, but just enough to tell him he was getting pissed and wouldn't be so nice for long. Goro knew it well, he knew this Shido, who had walked in without abruptness, sat on his couch, and spared just enough words to get him out of the bedroom to greet him, was not out the norm.

Shido was never _ not _ aggressive with him, most likely was already vexed to a tranquillizing headache and didn't want or had to work up the drive to be his standard mean. Normally, there is slamming and ruffling, grabbing and shouting directly at the teen's face, words would be said from both ends, but only one was left spitting blood and bile at the end of it. Only one would be bowed and ready for the hard swipe of the executioner's sword.

The belt finally gave purchase, and Goro had the sudden urge to vomit. It had gone up his throat, and he choked a little when his stomach lurched at the free metal clinking, nearly sending whatever lunch he had in his to his feet. He closed his eyes and swallowed. He started to sweat. This was going to kill him. 

"'Bout time. You never take a belt off before? You're worse than those slow whores, at least they had some tits to show me. You? Nothing. I don't know why I bother."

Goro wanted to know the same. He let his pants fall, his hands shook with regret. He stepped out of them and was grabbed harshly by his arm. It was terrifying, if he could be honest for once, the vice grip crushing his bicep, hand sinking into skin and muscle, Goro swore he could feel his bones giving way to the stress. He yelped and looked fearfully towards Shido, who had made him face him. 

"You hear me talking to you?" He gave him a hard shake, "Huh?!" He squeezed harder and harder, and sharply twisted his hand in a way that Goro's upper arm tried to protest against but weakly cracked at. He was sure it was not broken, but it would bruise and hurt like hell. He nodded profusely at the man, hoping he'd let him go.

"Say something when I'm speaking to you, goddamnit!"

He nodded some more, dumbly, as he had not registered that what he meant was now in immediate effect. He backhanded him, breaking an unspoken and unofficial rule of child disciplining: Not the face. The face caused rumours. The face sent kids to counsellor's offices, sent social workers to snoop around. The face rule was the only divider between discipline and abuse. Abusers didn't care, some didn't do the face because they cared slightly enough to not want social workers in their house. Most did not. 

It was personal now. The face was always personal. Whatever Shido was mad about, Goro had been the cause of it.

He never questioned that he was being abused. A fetus could tell. Was it still abuse if he didn't live with him? If he was his own adult? They weren't in a relationship, this was not domestic or child abuse-- it was straight up assault. Either way, he didn't know what he expected. This was not new, yet somehow he still felt betrayed. Funny that; he still had an inkling of hope somewhere, and it was now clear that there was no lower than this. 

He looked pathetic and scared, his cheek stung smartly. It was hard enough of a hit to bruise quickly, a deep green or purple by the next morning. His gums felt swollen, blood seeped into his mouth from a cut in his cheek from hitting teeth. Shido tsked. He let him go aggressively, and Goro tried to sneak in a tentative rub of his smarting arm when the other man turned his head for a moment to drink. A rule amongst beaten children was that you don't acknowledge the wound when the abuser is present. You don't show them you're hurting, because they'll take offence. They'll think you think they're bad people, and that makes them angrier. Thing was, Shido knew he was bad, and he didn't care about being worse, but for Goro to acknowledge that he hurt him? That was punishable by a mockery of the teen's manliness. He would be hit again if he was caught metaphorically _ "licking the wound". _

He touched it. Just barely with the tips of his fingers, and the pain went scorching. He had to fight the urge to fight back, it hurt so bad. It hurt so bad it pissed him off.

"That hurt?" Shido drank. Another rule was to never tell them it hurt. They know it hurts. Goro became conflicted. Was it rhetorical, or did he want him to answer? If he wanted him to answer, and he said 'no', would he hit him again? If he said 'yes', he would hit him again. But if he lied, he'd be hit and mocked. If he said nothing, he'd be hit again. Each answer was a losing one. 

"I...it.." Goro looked off, trying to look meek and sorry. His acting was great, but Shido knew it well. He gave his best, bloody and hurting smile: "it stings... a bit…"

Shido rolled his eyes with the glass in his hand.

"Only a bit."

He came close and touched his swollen face, and slapped it again. Open-handed and quick, he got him with his palm, and it sang throughout the room. 

"How about that? Still _ 'a bit' _? Huh?" He yelled. He was enraged with him.

He hit him again, and again, and again. Each slap progressively worse, somehow going deeper and reaching more into muscle and bone. Goro clenched his fists. There was nothing he could do. Blood filled his mouth now, and he barely regretted when some slipped from him and landed on the man's coat and shirt. He could only laugh at the offence.

Do. Not. Laugh. 

That was a sin in itself and Shido took it to heart. He grabbed Goro's head, burying his hand straight into his hair from his bangs, and squeezed. His roots were cursing at him, his body was aggravated. He winced and groaned in pain, tears welling at clenched eye corners. The natural drive to protect itself was pumping but couldn't act. Shido yanked him hard, and Goro went like paper on a breeze, and then doubled over when a rock-like fist buried itself into his stomach. It knocked the air out of him, and whatever it was that was going to come up sooner wimped out on him and didn't show. 

Goro could tell Shido wanted to punch him in the face. To beat him until there was nothing left but a sinking hole of blood. He wanted to beat the shit out of him. To kill him. He pulled his hair to make him stand, and looked him in the face. He _ hated _ him. He _wanted_ to kill him.

"You wanna laugh at me? Huh!? You think I'm some sort of fucking joke?!" 

Goro tried to lie, but he hit the floor before he could. He landed on his bad arm and hit his head on the floor.

"_Guargh!" _He exclaimed on impact, and he was sure now that his arm wasn't going to be fixed by waiting a few days. This was a hospital trip. He moaned in pain and could barely have time to writhe before the man was upon him, pinning him down by his neck. He squeezed hard, one hand large enough to cover his throat and then some. He couldn't breathe, his windpipe melding under the weight. 

"I'm some sort of fucking joke to you, _ Goro!? Me?! _ The one who took care of you all these fucking years? Who took you after that whore of a woman offed herself? Me!" He squeezed harder, blood was rushing in his head, and his nose started to bleed, "I'm the big _ fucking joke!_?" He was going to pop Goros head off like a bottlecap. "I'm _ nobody's _fucking joke!"

Goro wanted to protect himself, but the paradoxical situation he found himself in wouldn't allow it. He'd fight back and get a worse punishment, or let it happen and still get his punishment. What was he to do but resent and die? He clawed at the floor, balling his hands into fists that were to act as weights at his sides to keep him from giving motive to self-defense, and accepted the red and pulsing face above his blacking vision. He could feel his pulse against Shido's hand, and he felt woozy and lightheaded. Saliva and blood pooled at the back of his mouth. He'd suffocate before he drowned he figured as Shido looked around for the glass he had.

As he was fainting, he let up to reach for the glass and Goro took the chance to turn, spit, and gulp down any air he could.

"No one makes a fool out of me. Not those jokes of politicians." He drank a bit, "Not the police." He drank more. "And certainly not the likes of _ you!_" 

He squeezed his neck again, and Goro gasped at the sudden return. 

"Open your mouth."

Goro was confused. He didn't comply. He was operating on low oxygen and dying brain cells.

Shido got more aggressive, and lifted him by the neck and slammed his head back on the wood.

"I said open your fucking mouth!" 

He slammed his head again and Goro wondered for a second if the neighbours were listening. If they had ever listened. If they called the police or not.

He opened his mouth like a dumb fish, and Shido poured what was left everywhere but his mouth. It stung when it hit his eyes and got into his nose, and he felt sticky. In some sort of sick and angry game, Shido took his other hand, and rubbed the whiskey into his skin. He held his face, then harshly moved his palm all over his skin, sending droplets flying and scratching and grabbing at his reddening skin and features. The smell was atrocious and bitter, the taste didn't register. 

"Little bitch...thinking he can laugh at me…" He started trailing, and he took his hand from his throat to fumble with his belt. Hearing the erratic metal, new fear washed over him. He had forgotten about this. That the real reason, he was there. 

Goro wished he had just wrung his neck and let it be. 

He got the belt loose and pulled it off as if to display it. It was brand new, patent leather with dark brown colour, and the varnish shined in the lights of the apartment. 

He thought frantically. Was everything else not enough? 

He looped the belt into a loose _ 'q' _ shape and told Goro to sit up.

"Before I drag you by your roots again. Got it? Get the hell up."

With all he could, with only one arm and an erratic sympathetic system, he struggled but managed to push himself off the ground, dizzy and throbbing head telling him to do otherwise. Shido showed him the belt loop.

"Get in."

"I-" 

He slapped him. 

"I said get in! Put your head in here!"

Goro quickly did as he was told, and soon, he was being dragged by a fucking belt around his neck that was tightening as they went, and he clawed at it to no avail. Shido dragged him to the bathroom, not caring how Goro's body wasn't as limp and loose as a ball of slime and his feet kicked to catch to attempt an escape. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the other man was trying to do to him in his rage, and at this point, he was considering this overkill-- and a terrible way to allude to the end of a story that will go on for another thirty minutes (or so ;0). 

Goro choked. He was blacking out from the tightness around his neck and tried to catch the door frame to get away, but adrenaline only lasted for so long, and he was beginning to grow tired. His body was bruised, swollen, and bleeding. His neck would be scarred _if _he survived this, and he was going to have to go through it again the next time the man slunk his way in. 

In the bathroom, Shido pulled him up by the belt, forcing a wet cough and sputter to come up, grabbed him by the shirt, and threw him into the tub. Using the rest of the belt length, he tied it around the assistance bar, pulled it taut, and stopped the drain. The bar was a bit high, so he managed to get some air in and looked at Shido from the bed of the tub. Shido was drunk, clearly, and looked around. As if with sudden remembrance that they were in the bathroom, he reached for the faucet dials and twisted it to its maximum. The water fell out in a steady and beating stream that coated the bath bottom quickly. He told him not to move, then left the room. Taking this chance, Goro worked the thick knot, then tried it at his neck. Problem was that the buckle hooked and locked on an extra hole, and was situated at the back of his neck. He only had one arm he could use to work it, but the strain on his arm would kill him from aggravation. 

The water was scalding and nipped his bare legs and soaked his clothes. Steam lifted, and he felt like he was being boiled alive. He couldn't get away from it. the rawness of his skin. He kicked the water, and thought of reaching to turn the faucet off, but knew Shido would come storming in and try to drown him, so instead, he reached and turned it towards the middle to prompt a warm torrent. At the very least to ease the burns. He relaxed to catch his breath and pulled at the leather. It was starting to chafe and pinch his skin.

He would have to cut it. 

Contrary to popular belief, Goro shaved. He shaved what mattered, and also styled his hair. He had hair scissors in this room somewhere. If he could reach the walled sink, be could feel around for it, or at the very least his straight razor. He reached, but the belt caught and lurched him back into the tub. He stopped straining for a bit to listen. He was sure Shido was in the kitchen pouring another glass or in his room snooping around.

If he made too much noise, he would surely come back and punish him some more, so he tried to be quieter He tested the knot on the bar, and reached not for the sink counter this time, but some liquid soap on a metal suction shelf. He strained and pushed at the bottom of it, and the bottle wobbled. He grit his teeth and pushed it again, and the bottle tipped and fell over. He cursed and hit it, and the shelf bounced off the wall, reared back, and thundered against it. He both cringed and welcomed it, because while it could have alerted Shido, the toiletries also fell from it and landed right where he needed it.

He grabbed the soap, lathered it quickly on the knot, and worked it more, hoping he still had some traction on his fingers to grip and pull. 

As expected (or dreadfully hoped), the knot came undone, and he sprang up as quietly as he could, trying not to injure himself any more than Shido already had. He hoisted himself with his good arm, and his legs were red and unsteady. He could breathe, but the belt was still tight, and he wanted it off.

Looking around the countertop, it was _ pristine _. Nothing there for him to use. Strange, he thought, then pulled open the medicine cabinet and lo, a small box of straight razor refills, and he grabbed it with a quick hand. He shook it, and heard the knock of something inside rattling. He ripped it open with his hands, adrenaline masking the pain of his arm and he frantically produced the covered blade and ripped the thin cardboard covering off. In the mirror, he watched his movements and tried his hand at nipping at the leather.

He had forgotten the water, it was now overflowing as he mused over his neck and the blade, and bubbles of soapy water pooled on the floor. When he managed to get a good spot to start, he slipped a little on the water, and cursed, but continued. He brought it down and the blade caught on the thick leather. It was a struggle guiding the blade without slitting his throat, but he'd be willing to risk a little scratch. A few more tugs, the blade was nearly half in the split of the belt, and he felt victory was on the horizon. He got careless for a second and nicked his skin. He hissed in pain and continued.

When the door flung open, he had no time to react when the angry face of Shido appeared behind him and a quick hand grabbed him. 

"You little..!" Shido yanked his arm to force Goro to face him again, but the abruptness and the soapy water caused them both to lose balance. Goro finagled the situation to make them aim for the tub hoping the impact would render Shido injured or at the most, unconscious. They landed hard on their sides in the high porcelain tub, and the water embraced them in its now cold and still thundering embrace. Goro, ever the master of sleight of hand, had made sure to secure the new blade in his palm and held it tight to keep it from sliding and cutting where he didn't need it. 

In the confusion of being submerged in a tub meant for one, Shido struggled to dominate, and the water moved too much to focus or navigate. Goro was on top, and brought his head over the water and inhaled. He reached into the water and grabbed a part of Shido, whether it was clothing or skin, he couldn't tell and didn't care. Shido was stronger though, and he grabbed him back and rose up as well and narrowly avoided clocking his head on the faucet. He wrestled Goro into submission and submersion, and the teen reacted in kind to being pushed underwater. He held his breath and Shido went to punch his lights out, but missed and instead hit the tub bottom when Goro moved his head. The man yelled and swore, and was hoping the water would do the job for him.

Goro strategically placed the blade in his front teeth, and when Shido tried again to deck him, Goro never thought he'd be so lucky! Shido turned his fist when he punched, and the blade slid perfectly into the space his knuckles and stuck in the muscle and bone there. Shido's blood stained the water a nasty red, and the man shouted in pain and anger as he clutched his bleeding fist. When Goro's chest began to compress, he came up and attacked Shido, grabbing at him and pushing him back, his back hit the faucet head hard, and he coughed on impact. He tried to hit Goro back, but the teen dodged and hit him with a strong southpaw, knocking Shido's head to the left with a sharp turn, and then he hit him again, this time with his left fist. He kept beating Shido with everything he had, his face was an ugly purple and red, and his eye was bleeding. Goro was positive he had busted his eye socket, and with a vile burst of defiance, Shido spat blood on his face and sneered at him.

“You’re so big and bad now, huh, Goro?” He took a shuddering breath and his eye began to swell. He did a tired laugh. “Such a big..bad _ boy _ now, aren’t you?” He was mocking him now, bleeding and busted to hell, yet still had the gall to mock the one beating him. Goro couldn't help but lose it, and he hit him with a left hook that connected with his cheek and snapped his head rightward, and in the midst, a loud, wet crack sounded. It was more akin to a fleshy crunch than crack if one was being specific, but either way, a person could cut it, Goro had broken his father's neck. 

His chest heaved and fell, exhausted, he reached for the faucet dials and turned them until the water slowed and eventually stopped. He slouched, breathed, and felt his neck for the half cut belt and pulled at the split sides, and material began to tear with loud pops from the material breaking. His body calming, the pain returned to him and the injuries of his war started to sing. He huffed and stumbled out the bathtub, using the counter as leverage, and he looked at himself in the mirror again. His face took a beating from the slaps and the fall in the tub, and he looked like he just escaped a lion’s den. His lips were busted and there was a big blotch of drying blood in the centre of his features.

He looked so tired, and he reached up to wipe the blotch from his nose but it refused to give. He shrugged, he could barely keep his eyes open, and looked over at Shido’s limp body in the overfilled tub, sitting in his pool of watery blood. He limped back to the edge and looked at his busted neck and pallor. Goro had to laugh at the corpse, and reached into the water and grabbed the pierced hand. He put the arm on his thigh and yanked the metal out of it. The muscle wasn’t trying to give it up, but a few more tugs and it was out and on his palm. He didn’t know why he took it back, most certainly because his brain was beginning to short circuit from overexertion.

Now, this next thing Goro would do was something he had learned from the very man dead before him. He flipped Shido’s wrist so that it was facing upwards, and took the blade to just the edge of the fold of his arm, and dragged it down the length of his forearm, trying for as deep a wound as virtually possible then he threw the corpse’s hand back into the water. He’d have to clean that later and think of a good lie to tell about Shido’s mysterious disappearance, but that is for another time. Right now, Goro just wanted to sleep. He leaned against the wall for support and inched his way to his room, pulled the door open and crumbled into the bed. 

He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he reopened his drowsy eyes, the sun had barely touched the sky, and birds hadn’t begun to sing. His room was still dark and his alarms hadn’t gone off. He touched his neck, the belt was irritating his skin. Awake now, he figured he couldn’t go back to sleep, and tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his arm scolded him for applying pressure. Then, it all came back to him. What had happened last night, the fighting and the blood, he looked at his hand and found the razor had given him small cuts, and he dropped it onto his bed. He looked around and slid off the mattress.

He had not done away with Shido’s body.

He had to get rid of it as soon as possible, so he went quickly to the flooded bathroom, water damage already setting in on the wooden floor of the hall, and pulled the door open. Inside, he had hoped to see the man’s corpse still in the bath, and lo, it was. He didn't know exactly what to do with it at this point, he had never gotten this far without Shido's help. He thought of calling Ren, no doubt he'd help him if he spun a good story about needing help throwing out some hefty garbage, but then the questions about his face and arm--did he want to answer that? He shook his head and scratched it.

“Fuck.” He mumbled to himself. “Fucking shit.”

How Goro got rid of the body promptly is a thing he often lies about nowadays.

Sometimes he says that he called a cleanup crew, other times it was a one man job he did alone. He tried not to think about it too often, because if he did, he’d smile about it and give a hearty laugh at the circumstance and the execution. He’d become so happy about it that people would certainly ask and he’d tell them the full story to the very beginning whilst laughing in the process. He’d tell them the specifics: that Shido fucked him like a whore whenever he wanted, no matter how many times he said ‘_ no’ _ or ‘ _ stop’,_ that he tried to kill him numerous times before, that he pushed him down some fucking stairs because he didn’t want to explain to the doctor how much he fucked up! Goro would give every vile detail to a complete stranger, and laugh as if it were the funniest joke on the planet. He’d tell them about Pscience, and the mental breakdowns, the mass terrorism! He’d laugh and laugh and laugh until he seized and fell over dead. So instead of thinking about how he finagled a neighbor to help him hoist a mysterious bag of trash into an incinerator, all the separate pieces jumbling around inside, and having to play apologetic before returning to his apartment to the last bag of them all, a small, firmly tied plastic bag from the grocery store, and taking it for a long walk to the pier. The bag and its severed head and heavy rocks were thrown into the sea. 

He felt a little bad for the pollution, but he was never a good person to begin with. 

  



End file.
